Roads Not Taken
"...that would cover the area from here to here, Captain Picard," Commander Elizabeth Shelby said, drawing a wide arc on the tactical screen in the Enterprise's briefing room. "Then if we implement your suggestion, Will, that would give the ships in this sector—" She rotated the display. "—more freedom to probe the Federation-Borg border. That means we could maximize—"
"Liz," Commander William Riker broke in, and stifled a smile as she turned and with a visible effort focused on the two men in the room with her. But she recovered almost instantly and assumed her customary stance: hands clasped behind her back, shoulders squared, chin up, eyes centered. And Riker realized that what he'd perceived a year ago as barely-concealed impatience in her wasn't that at all. It was a natural intensity, an energy she held in tight rein until needed, like a dancer gathering herself for a leap and not—as Riker had once thought—a tiger ready to pounce.
"Yes?" she asked.
Riker mimed looking at a wrist chronometer. "It's getting late."
"My apologies, gentlemen. I...seem to have gotten carried away again."
"It's quite all right, Commander," Captain Jean-Luc Picard said, able to be magnanimous when he'd made his first officer end the strategy meeting. "We understand your sense of urgency."
"Thank you, Captain," she said. "I appreciate your and Will's time and expertise as two of the people who have dealt directly with the Borg—your knowledge is very valuable to Starfleet."
"So valuable, apparently, that they want to take me away from the Enterprise for just that reason," Picard noted dryly.
"You received a new offer of command?" she asked, although she already knew Picard was one of the top candidates for—
"Fleet Captain, overseeing this little project at the Federation-Borg border."
"With your knowledge and experience, sir, you should give the offer every consideration. If—"
"I am giving it all the consideration I give every such offer," he said in a tone that ended that particular line of discussion, and rose. "I'll be happy to continue this discussion tomorrow after your inspection tour."
"It was your engineering staff I was in constant contact with regarding the refits and modifications in light of what we've learned about the Borg. I have every confidence that my report will be positive."
Picard nodded. "I appreciate your confidence, Commander. Good evening."
"Good evening, sir."
Picard left the briefing room, and Riker began to help Shelby gather up her datapadds. "When did you call the inspection?"
She downloaded the information from the tactical screen into a tricorder. "0700. We start on the bridge, and—"
"Haven't you learned how to sleep in yet?"
She took the padds from him, eyebrows arched. "Weren't you the one who used to call me 'ambitious'?"
He laughed. "Let's not start that, Liz!"
"I hope I'm not the same person who tried to leave bootprints all over you last year—" she said, and even as she teased him her intensity still showed in her voice. "—but there really isn't a lot of time to waste. Those four Falcon-class ships we got in trade from the Corellian worlds are going to be waiting for me at Starbase 129. With the four more the Corellians are building to specification, and the six Intercept-class ships from Scylare we're getting as a condition of their acceptance into the Federation, we could be in very, very good shape where a Borg invasion fleet is concerned. But only if we can convert those ships to Federation use and deploy them along the border in a timely fashion."
"I understand." He smiled at her. "And then what's next for you?"
Her expression became more serious. "I don't know, Will. I took a real gamble when I accepted the job of Task Force Commander. Starfleet might not see what I've done as a step towards command at all—they might see me as the galaxy's best...administrator or something." She shrugged, but Riker could see that she was waiting to hear of her next assignment with real apprehension.
"You'll get a ship of your own, Liz. And you'll make a damned fine captain," he stated, his blue eyes holding no doubt whatsoever.
Her expression mirrored Riker's own. "So will you."
He chuckled. "You don't let up, do you?"
"It's not in my job description." But she grinned, too.
Riker stifled a yawn. "I'd better hit the sack. You know where you're quartered?"
"Yes." She suddenly remembered that she'd also wanted to consult with the Enterprise's engineering section on the Scylarean ship refits. "Do you know where Geordi'd be now?" she asked.
"He's been pulling double shifts to get the Enterprise ready for your visit..." Riker said.
"Hint taken," she said good-naturedly. "Good night."
"'night, Liz." He started to walk out, then turned and added as if in afterthought, "But Data—who, like you, doesn't need sleep—" he teased, "is on bridge night watch."
She gave him a look, but smiled. "Thanks, Will."
As Picard made his way back to his quarters, he found he kept rubbing his temple as if something was bothering him. It was when he entered the turbolift that he suddenly realized what was wrong—his head was pounding.
He said aloud, "Correction. Sickbay," and the turbolift paused, changed direction, then stopped and opened its doors. Picard stepped out, not into the soothing quiet of a medical staff on night duty, but brightly-lit, carefully controlled chaos.
It seemed as if the entire medical section was inventorying, reconfiguring, calibrating and recording. He stood in the doorway, assessing the possibility of getting someone's attention—and then he saw an open wall panel near a diagnostic bed, and a pair of long, slender legs emerging from it that could only belong to Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher. Her hand emerged, setting out a tricorder she'd apparently been using and reaching for a probe beside her.
A crash sounded from one of the labs. As several people hurried towards the noise, he heard the chirp of a comm badge and Crusher's muffled voice ask from behind the wall, "Selar—?"
The Vulcan physician, who had calmly put down the pediatrics logs she had been working on and strode towards the lab as soon as she heard the crash , acknowledged as she went, "I am on my way, Beverly."
"Bless you, Selar," she said, deactivating her comm.
Suddenly, Sickbay was quite empty. Picard made his way to the diagnostic bed. "Doctor Crusher, I presume?" he asked politely.
She slid out from the wall and sat up, pushing her long red hair back from her face. "Jean-Luc!" Despite looking tired, she still brightened at seeing him. "What brings you down here at this hour?"
He cast about briefly for a clever rejoinder, but gave up for the pain in his head. "I have a headache," he said simply.
"Well, you've come to the right place. Everyone here has one, too." At Picard's questioning look, she explained, setting aside the probe, "An inspection's an inspection. The medical section has no intention of embarrassing ourselves, or you."
She arose, reaching for a hypospray already laid out on the table next to the bed. He straightened as well and obediently stood still as she dialed up something and pressed the hypo against his neck. "That should help," she said.
"Aren't you even going to ask me why I have a headache?"
She shrugged, dismissive, as she went to one of the dispensary alcoves and inserted the hypo for replenishment. "If I had to guess it in two words, I'd say 'Liz Shelby.' The question is whether it's her inspection, or her meetings to discuss Borg strategy, or her incessant badgering—'Did you get a commission? Are you going to take it?'" They both shared a smile at that. "Honestly! She wasn't aboard for more than ten minutes before she was after me. The way she keeps insisting that we accept promotions and new commands, it's no wonder all the senior officers are running around looking pained and needing one of these," she said, holding up the refilled hypo.
As Crusher returned it to its table, Picard offered, not wanting to go back to his quarters just yet, "Do you need any help finishing up, Beverly? I can—check readings, hand you tools—"
"I suppose you know a hawk from a handsaw," she deadpanned, and to her delight Picard's smile widened into a grin at her quoting "Hamlet."
"As a matter of fact, I do," he told her.
She handed him the tricorder, accepting his offer of assistance. "Well, that won't be necessary. Just tell me what the indicators say when I ask, that'll make this go a lot faster."
She slipped back inside the panel and he crouched beside her. They worked companionably, then Crusher fell silent working on a last tricky circuit. Picard let his mind wander, and found himself musing aloud, "Shelby's bound to get to one of us before she leaves."
Crusher finally sat back up again, and gave him a candid look. "I was actually thinking that, too," she said quietly. "But…there's something about this ship. And this crew. It can't be re-created—it's something we've all worked so hard to achieve, Jean-Luc. Something special." She held his gaze steadily. "We trust each other, care about each other, work so well together. Why break up one of the best teams in Starfleet?"
His eyes were warm as he regarded her. She had voiced his sentiments exactly.
And something more…
She looked away, running a hand through her hair, then couldn't help raising her eyes to his again. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?" she asked gently. "You have an inspection tomorrow."
"And so do you."
"But Liz is starting the inspection on the bridge," she pointed out. Picard gave her a small smile, conceding her point, and they both arose. "How's your head?" she asked suddenly.
"Much better," he said. He gave the tricorder back to her, touching her hands briefly as he did so. She allowed the touch, and they stood close to each other for one more moment before the medical staff came back. "Thank you, Beverly."
"Anytime, Jean-Luc. Anytime."
Lieutenant Commander Data turned as the bridge turbolift doors opened behind him and regarded Commander Shelby with a calm golden gaze. He had consulted closely with her about every aspect of the Borg situation, but this was the first time they found themselves face-to-face again.
Shelby couldn't help a smile at the sight of the android, which protocol and decorum immediately dampened to only a glow in her eyes. "Hi, Data. It's good to see you again," she greeted, entering the bridge.
He noted the casual tone of her greeting and her use of his name without his rank, and he arose and answered in kind, acknowledging the warmth of her greeting with a slight nod of his head. "Liz. It is good to see you as well."
She held up the padds. "Are you available for an engineering consultation? I've got the plans for several new ships that need to be modified to Starfleet standards, and I thought you might have some ideas."
He nodded. "The engineering station is not currently in use," he observed, and joined her in front of it. They took their seats at the station and she handed him one of the padds, briefly explaining what she needed.
She looked at Data's profile as he turned and began to work, pleased at his willingness to help, and then turned to the console and the problem she'd set for herself.
After a while she said with some satisfaction, "That's it! We'll have those ships up and running in record time!"
Data looked at the schematic she was working from and frowned. "Do I understand correctly what you are planning to do, Liz? Do you believe a direct line feed between two incompatible systems—"
She made some rapid calculations, then pointed out, "The discrepancies can be adequately handled by any regulation Starfleet computer."
He considered the projections she'd made. "Although the savings in time over normal refit procedures would be considerable, such a line feed would only work for an information mismatch, such as that between dissimilar navigational systems. Direct line feed between the warp core regulator and incompatible power outputs would be too risky." He looked at her to emphasize his point. "You would need to bypass every safety interlock of both systems. In that case, a single programming flaw could result in an explosion on the scale of a supernova."
Shelby returned his look. "But you wouldn't allow a programming flaw, Data."
"No. But I will not be the engineer on this project."
"Good point," she conceded. It had always been easy for her and Data to be critical of each other's work but not each other, and she was pleased that she and the android still made a good team.
Data went back to calculating type and amount of weaponry the Scylarean interceptor could support, and Shelby worked on fleshing out a scenario involving a Corellian ship's power output leads and a Federation warp core regulator.
Finally she shook her head, frowning. "That's unacceptable. If we're in warp there's—"
The duty engineer reported to the engineering station for a midwatch systems check and Data led the way to the captain's ready room so he and Shelby could continue their discussion.
When the door closed behind them Shelby turned to the android, ready to greet him as warmly as she'd wanted to on the bridge, but Data handed her a padd with his calculations and asked, still maintaining in his tone and countenance the proper distance between officers,
"At what conclusions have you arrived?"
"Data—!" Shelby stared at him. And she saw no depths to his flat yellow eyes, no small smile at the corners of his pale mouth, no hint of the warmth between them that had been there a year ago.
"Yes?" the android asked, perfectly calm, perfectly distant.
"I've...concluded that the direct line feed idea needs more work," she managed to say.
He nodded. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
"Yes." She deliberately put her tricorder and padds down on the desk, emphasizing that work was over, and then turned to face the android. "How have you been, Data?" she asked, hoping he could see that her question was sincere, her concern genuine.
But his answer was indifferent. "I have been, and am, functioning within normal parameters."
"Data, what's happened?" she demanded, not able to contain her bewilderment. "We...when we started consulting about quantum mechanics and Borg technology and...when we started talking about more than technical information—I didn't expect us to be lovers again, but I thought we had become..." Her voice died away as he continued to stare at her with an expression of only polite interest, nothing more. "...friends."
And even though she knew she'd trained herself to play the diplomat, able to say or not say exactly what was needed, her confusion and hurt grew as she looked at the impassive face that had in the past been able to compel nothing but honesty from her, and she couldn't stop herself from blurting out,
"I looked forward to your subspace transmissions, and to telling you about my diplomatic assignments, my fights at HQ—you introduced me to your cat, Spot, and played the oboe and flute for me when you'd learned how to play them—"
Shut up, Liz! her mind ordered sternly even as she heard herself asking, "Are you the same Data who showed me you learned to tap dance? Who told me how you played Friar Tuck in Q's Sherwood Forest? The same Data—"
...who, with a single kiss, made me feel human again?
Shelby folded her arms across her chest as if she could protect herself from what she'd almost said, from an empty feeling she'd lived with for so long before she'd known Data and which knowing him had filled inside her.
He'd told her when they'd said goodbye that he wouldn't forget her. But what an android with no emotions remembered wasn't what she remembered—that somehow she'd come to understand him, and that he'd known she'd revealed herself to him and what that meant. And now she could see for herself that it had only been an illusion.
Why had she expected anything different?
"I'm sorry, Data," she said aloud. "I misunderstood. Let's...start over again, okay?"
He nodded acquiescence.
She straightened, reining in her emotions, and became in her manner and voice a Task Force Commander again. "You've turned down every new commission Starfleet's sent your way," she stated. "Why did you decide to take command of the Sutherland during the Neutral Zone Blockade?"
"The need was apparent—"
"And the need to bring the fleet to full strength isn't?"
"It was an emergency situation."
"What would you call the return of the Borg?"
Data considered. "Perhaps I only recently felt ready to take command."
She nodded, acknowledging his reason. "I read the official report. What wasn't in it? How was it for you—what was it like?"
"I feel I performed adequately, but I do not know that I would wish to repeat the experience."
"Why?"
"Lieutenant Commander Hobson, my first officer, expressed initial misgivings at having to receive orders from an android, and his opinions affected not only how he responded to my presence, but how the rest of the crew responded as well." At Shelby's look of dismay, he went on, "Ultimately I did earn their respect and the crew did follow my orders."
Her expression remained troubled. Finally, she said, unable to help giving him her sympathy despite her resolve not to, "When I first came aboard the Enterprise, I assumed it would be just like HQ, where I had to fight everyone to get what I wanted, where political alliances you couldn't even guess at could determine your fate. And the Enterprise wasn't like that at all, and I got on the wrong side of so many people until I figured that out. Nobody plays politics here, no one's out to sabotage your career. If you have an idea you can actually take it through the proper channels and it'll make it all the way to the captain's desk. I didn't know that was possible.
"What I'm trying to say, Data, is that I made a mistake thinking that the Enterprise was going to be like every other place I'd been. But Humans can learn from their mistakes. I took my lesson and put it to work among my own staff, and I'm a better commander for it."
"I did not make the mistake of believing that the Sutherland was going to be similar to the Enterprise. I have encountered attitudes such as Lieutenant Commander Hobson's many times before. I simply would not want to function constantly in such an environment."
"That would just be a matter of choosing your own crew. If you didn't have to walk into a situation with a ready-made crew under you, would you consider accepting a command position again?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps what I need is more command experience under another's supervision, which is what I receive as a bridge duty officer."
She smiled at his hedging. "Data, make mistakes, and learn from them. If the Sutherland didn't suit you, determine what does and tell Starfleet and they'll find you that situation."
"Why do you wish me to assume a new post?" he asked, curious.
"Because we lost a lot of good people when the Borg broke through at Wolf 359, and Starfleet's running very, very short of officers who have command-line experience. If I could, I'd get you and every command level officer on the Enterprise onto ships of your own. Will's been offered his own command seventeen times. Beverly's been offered her own ten times. Geordi, eleven times—"
"I have received fifteen such offers," Data said.
Shelby nodded. "It's no use acquiring and building all these ships if we have no captains for them, Data. All I'm asking is that you think about it."
The android's expression remained a blank wall despite Shelby revealing to him her feelings, her concern, her mistakes, and she suddenly felt exhausted. Collecting her things, she said, "I've got an inspection tour tomorrow; I should probably call it a day." Data let her precede him out of the ready room.
She turned and looked at him as they reached the turbolift doors, and remembered the easy gestures of affection between them a year ago—a touch on the arm, a hand on the shoulder—even when on duty, that were now lost to her.
She willed herself to be grateful for what had been and forced a smile. "I'll see you at 0700."
The 'lift doors opened, and an engineering ensign started to step through before she realized there were people on the other side of the door. The ensign stopped short, flushing red in surprise.
"Ensign D'Sora," Data greeted her.
"Commander D-data," Jenna stuttered. "Commander...Shelby," she took a wild guess.
Shelby's smile became more genuine as she looked at the young ensign, whose braided blonde hair was coming loose from, apparently, being tugged on in frustration, and whose large eyes seemed somehow sad as she avoided looking at either officer.
Shelby offered, "It's nice to meet you, Ensign D'Sora."
"Oh—!" She met Shelby's warm gaze as they traded places in the turbolift. "Very nice to meet you too, sir."
Shelby looked at the android. "Good night, Data."
"Good night, Liz." The doors closed and Jenna glanced quickly at Data, wondering when, if ever, she'd feel ready to have the android call her by her first name again. She was just grateful that, until she let him know otherwise, he would treat her as she'd asked him to—formally, with no hint of their romantic involvement or the friendship that had predated it.
"Is there a problem, Ensign?"
She took a deep breath, grateful for the android composure that bolstered her own. "We're having trouble in weapons systems, Commander..."
As Lieutenant Commander LaForge walked back into main engineering with Riker and Shelby after the inspection, he saw Data observing the new engineering trainees by the subsystems monitor and he flashed the android a grin and a covert "thumbs up" sign. Data nodded acknowledgement of how the inspection had gone.
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, gentlemen," Shelby said as she led the way to the chief engineer's office. "The Endeavor had twice as many problems trying to—"
The alert-status lights all around them suddenly flashed as the "red alert" klaxon blared.
Riker hit his combadge and shouldered his way towards the status boards. "Riker to Bridge!"
"It's here, Commander," Data said, tracing a path on the subsystems monitor leading away from the warp core regulator.
LaForge said aloud as he took in what the monitor indicated, "The power output leads are down—"
Shelby saw the implications of the emergency even as the chief engineer explained it for Riker's benefit: if they couldn't somehow drop out of warp or compensate for the downed leads, they only had a matter of minutes before—
Her mind raced as she pieced bits of information together. Then she moved, realizing that the malfunction could be solved by exactly what she and Data had been talking about the night before, unacceptable or not.
She said as she walked quickly to a point beneath an access port in the ceiling, "Geordi, retime the safety interlocks. Give us as much time before they kick in as possible. Data and I will deal with the hardware."
"Gotcha."
"Data," she said, motioning him to her. "Hands, palm up, like this." She showed him, her fingers interlaced. He imitated her. She grabbed his shoulders for leverage and stepped into his hands, stretching to reach the access port. The android steadied her as she palmed aside the cover and hoisted herself into the crawlway. Then her hand and arm came down from the opening. "Tricorder. Engineering kit."
He tossed them up to her. Then with one leap the android caught the edge of the access port and hoisted himself in.
Shelby had already crawled to the unit controlling the power output and was patching and rewiring as fast as she could. She had the picture in her mind, knew what needed to be done, but how long would it take for the android to see what she'd intuited only scant seconds ago? He had to get it, or else when she—
Geordi's voice said over her combadge, "I could only get you three minutes."
"Damn!" In that amount of time she couldn't possibly—
Data, undistracted, watched Shelby for a few long moments, and then he moved in beside her. "I understand," he said, taking over.
She hesitated even as his hands moved more quickly and surely over the components than hers had. "Are you sure you understand? Everything?"
"Yes," he said.
She moved aside to give him a little more room, watching him, eyes wide. "No programming flaws, Data," she said with nervous humor.
"None," he assured her.
She focused the tricorder. "Still off, by .08."
"Compensating for new output now," he affirmed. "That should decrease the discrepancy to .01."
"Correct."
"Bypassing leads," he announced, and she froze.
An arc of pure energy shot from the damaged leads to the output conduit, enough energy, she knew, to kill her had she been—
He said calmly as if nothing had happened, "Leads bypassed."
She took a deep breath and said a prayer to the patron saint of mad engineers and androids, and examined the tricorder's readings. ".002."
He continued to fine-tune the connection to the warp core regulator.
"Five seconds to safety interlocks," Geordi's voice warned.
"Four...three..." Shelby counted under her breath, "...two—we're at .000," she said just as the interlocks activated.
LaForge's voice over her combadge said, "The warp core regulator's back on line; warp speed steady and holding. Whatever you did, it's working."
As she heard Riker's voice order, "All stop! Take the engines off line!" Shelby slumped against the wall, weak with relief. "We did it," she whispered.
"Yes, we did."
She recalibrated the tricorder, her hand shaking as the rush of adrenalin subsided, and ran the scanner over Data.
"You knew your solution would cause the death of any Human attempting to implement it," he stated with no uncertainty.
She nodded. "I knew last night; that's why it needed more work. But I couldn't think of any other way to save the ship."
"How would you have implemented your plan, had I not been an android and able to withstand the energy flux?"
She closed her eyes briefly when Data's readings showed satisfactory. Then she looked at him and admitted, "Data, I didn't know if you could or not; I just knew you'd be fast enough to understand what I was doing without my having to explain. I figured that after I died, you could just pick up where I left off."
He stared at her, bemused.
The look was so typically Data she suddenly wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Instead she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Oh, Data, I'm so glad you're all right!" Then just as quickly as she'd held him, she released him and crawled back to the access port. "Heads up!" she called before she dropped the tricorder and engineering kit through, and then she jumped.
Data sat very still, staring at where she'd just been.
"All clear, Data! Come on down!" she called up to him. And then he crawled to the access port and dropped through.
"You took an unacceptable risk!" Riker accused Shelby in the briefing room afterwards. "If I'd known that was what you were—"
"There was no time for a consultation or a vote, Commander," she said firmly. "It was my risk to take."
"Not on this ship! Granted, I speak for everyone when I say that I'm grateful you had a solution to our dilemma. But life-and-death decisions aren't yours to—"
"Wait," LaForge said. "Commander Riker, you were there—Commander Shelby asked Data to go with her, not anyone else. She must have already taken into account—"
Shelby was about to explain when she felt a hand on her arm. She glanced down, saw pale fingers resting on her sleeve, and then looked up, startled, into Data's face. He looked at her meaningfully, warning her, and then interrupted,
"Commander Shelby and I discussed such a procedure last night with respect to the Corellian ships."
Riker visibly relaxed. "Then, Commander Shelby, you already knew that, whereas a Human couldn't carry out the procedure, an android could."
Data stated with perfect honesty, "I performed those calculations myself, and that is the conclusion at which I arrived." But only Shelby knew when the android had done so.
Why is he covering for me? she wondered even as she kept her expression neutral, didn't try to set the record straight.
Picard asked, "Number One, is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded. "Mister LaForge, are you satisfied that this problem with the leads has been resolved?"
"Yes, sir. My people are—"
"Engineering to LaForge," the intercom called.
The chief engineer tapped his combadge. "LaForge here."
"You wanted to be notified when we ready to put the warp engines back on line, sir."
"I'm on my way. LaForge out." He looked at the android. "I could use your help, Data." Data looked to the captain for permission to leave.
Picard nodded to the both of them. "Inform the bridge when they can resume previous course and speed."
"Aye, sir," LaForge acknowledged.
Shelby felt the slight, lingering pressure of Data's hand on her arm as he arose from his chair. She didn't look at him as he left with the chief engineer, not sure what, exactly, had just happened.
"Well, Captain, are you ready for round two of Shelby's strategy session?" Riker directed the question to Picard, but his goodnatured grin was aimed squarely at Shelby.
When they concluded, Picard turned to Shelby and asked innocently, "Have you checked for any personal subspace transmissions today, Commander?"
She looked at him, puzzled at the change of topic. "No. I've been...busy."
"Perhaps you'd wish to."
Curious, she called for any transmissions directed to her, and found one from Starfleet Headquarters. She caught her breath and looked back at him. Riker also looked at Picard, and they both saw a smile in the captain's stern eyes. Shelby keyed the message up and let the audio play.
"Admiral Melynnis Olorenshaw to Commander Elizabeth Shelby. Starfleet hereby recognizes your exemplary service in commanding a Task Force of almost two hundred staff members which brought Starfleet back up to nearly full strength within one standard year; during which time you led twenty-two separate diplomatic missions that resulted in nine contracts negotiated with Federation planets for their ships and new ships built to specification, four trades with non-aligned planets involving ships and technology, and the admission of three star systems to the Federation; and during which time you have researched and implemented engineering and defense upgrades, refits, and modifications to all remaining Starfleet vessels in preparation for another Borg attack.
"In recognition of your diplomatic, technical, and leadership abilities, and on behalf of Starfleet and the Federation, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain and I am authorized to offer you the command of the Falcon-class Jorima Falcon, now being refitted at Starbase 129. Please inform Starfleet Command of your decision regarding this commission. Admiral Olorenshaw, out."
Shelby had leaned back in her seat, pressed her hands together and brought them to rest against her lips at the start of the message, and now her eyes were closed as she took in the offer.
"Sounds like good news to me," Riker congratulated, knowing what Shelby had been hoping for.
"To me, also," Picard said, enjoying the chance to turn the tables on her for once and present her with a commission and see her reaction. "I hope it is to you as well."
She nodded and finally looked up. "I—" She hesitated, then said in a rush, "I can't accept. When I went up to repair those leads in engineering I knew it would kill me and I had no way of knowing if Data would survive, either. I'd do it again with no hesitation, but if Will's right, I'm not fit to command a starship."
Riker frowned at her. "But Data doesn't lie."
"No. But he didn't exactly tell the truth. He made his calculations after he went up with me, when he saw what I was doing. The outcome was fortuitous, nothing more."
"You mean Data covered for you?" Riker asked.
"Yes. And I can't figure out why—"
"You don't expect a friend to do you the favor of saving you from a reprimand?" And Picard's voice held a hint of gentle teasing. He went on to explain, "Regarding your fitness to command a starship, you took an unacceptable risk...for a commander. But that same risk is appropriate for a captain to take; a captain should be willing to sacrifice everything for her ship. As to your second concern, it seems to me Data, who is usually quite literal about Starfleet regulations, was in this instance clearly influenced by his friendship with both you and Will, and didn't want to see you two come to a misunderstanding."
She gave him a look, half embarrassed, half curious, tried to think how to phrase it, and came out with, "Why...didn't you say anything before Will gave me his 'righteous indignation' act?"
"Because you never undermine your first officer when he's simply doing his job." He traded glances with Riker, who nodded as Picard stated, "Will was right, you know, when you were still a commander."
She took a deep breath and hesitated before she admitted, "I know."
Picard looked amused at her honesty. "Would you like some advice, Captain Shelby?" he asked.
Hearing her new rank made her heart feel suddenly light, and she smiled. "Yes, I would."
"You've been waiting all this time for a command of your very own. With your unique experience and considerable abilities, I can't think of a command you're more qualified for than aboard a ship, that you yourself helped redesign, out on the Federation-Borg border. Accept the commission."
"And choose your first officer carefully," Riker added.
Picard knew that he was partly teasing Shelby, but the words brought back a sudden memory of meeting Will Riker for the first time, so clear it triggered a kind of vision—of Riker as a captain meeting his own first officer, of Crusher in command red, and LaForge, too, and Data—
Picard held up his hand, forestalling whatever retort Shelby might make to Riker, realizing who would make the perfect first officer for Starfleet's newest captain. He said, thoughtful, "Consider a first officer who balances your risk-taking with prudence, and who can make your hunches pay off. He would be quite a valuable asset."
Data looked up when he heard the admittance buzzer sound. "Computer, end and save music program," he said, then called, "Enter." The door to his quarters opened and he greeted, "Captain Shelby. Congratulations."
She stopped just inside the door and stared at him. "Thanks," she said in a small voice, taken aback by his formality. Finally, she said, "I guess that was appropriate, but I'd prefer that you still call me 'Liz' whenever you would have in the past. I may have been promoted, but that doesn't change—"What? Our relationship? Our friendship? "—things, between us." She looked at him, wanting him to understand. "Nothing else has changed, Data."
But he only said, "As you wish, Liz."
She walked further in and stared at the large drums the android was just stepping out from behind. She raised her eyebrows in question.
"These are timpani," he explained.
"Soundproofing must be excellent," she commented dryly.
He set down his mallets and answered, "I have had no complaints from neighboring cabins with respect to the sound, but Spot does tend to seclude herself when I play."
Liz took a quick glance around the android's quarters—at his paintings, his books, his dance shoes, the memorabilia of his life—and wondered why she had even bothered asking herself whether Picard was right about her friendship with Data, much less agonized over asking him to become her first officer. There was nothing she could offer him that could compare to what he had aboard the Enterprise. Although he'd get a state-of-the-art library-computer console, the holodeck facility would only allow him to wear his odd hat and pipe in the streets of old London, not indulge in complex murder mysteries. And he certainly couldn't bring his timpani with him...
She decided not to even try. "I...wondered about...what you said in the briefing room today," she finally thought to say.
"Whatever assumptions you made at the moment you decided on your course of action, when you included me you also included my calculations and understanding of the situation," he explained. "There was no reason not to mention this."
However perfectly reasonable, his statement didn't sound like an answer to her and she pointed out, exasperated with him for ignoring the obvious, "But Data, I'm still as reckless as I ever was!"
He nodded. "I realize this."
And his simple acceptance of this fact gave her the first real laugh she'd had since she'd come aboard.
"Did I say something amusing?" he asked, hopeful.
"It was the way you said it," she explained, realizing that she was still charmed by him, by his eagerness to understand human behavior—and by his acceptance of her exactly as she was. She smiled warmly at him, feeling like they'd finally reached some sort of understanding.
But his return stare froze her where she stood. It seemed to pierce straight through her, the intensity in his yellow eyes so sharp she felt like he was trying to read her soul.
"May I ask you a question, Liz?" She managed a nod. "Why did you embrace me in the maintenance crawlway?"
She was caught off-guard by the question, but shook off the look in his eyes and answered, "I was happy you were all right, that you were still alive."
"You could simply have told me that."
"I could have," she admitted, trying to articulate her motivations for him. "But it...wasn't enough just to say it. I wanted to hold you, to feel for myself that you were okay. And, I wanted you to know how glad I was that you were okay, too."
He nodded, seeming lost in thought as he puzzled over her statements.
And Shelby realized that, if he didn't understand why she'd been happy he was all right, then whatever link they'd had to each other a year ago was finally gone. "I'll let you get back to your music, Data," she said quietly, and left.
Crusher walked out of the holodeck, a towel draped around her neck and her tap shoes dangling from her fingers. As she patted her face with the towel, she saw Shelby walking towards her looking preoccupied. Crusher briefly considered ducking back onto the holodeck, but dismissed the impulse as unworthy. Instead, she squared her shoulders and walked determinedly towards the new captain.
"I heard the good news, Liz," Crusher greeted. "I'm very happy for you."
Shelby looked almost startled at being addressed and frowned, concentrating, before she said, "Oh! Thanks, Beverly."
Shelby seemed not only distracted, but almost sad, and somehow Crusher had never thought of ambitious, determined Elizabeth Shelby as ever being sad. And she found herself offering, "I'm going to Ten Forward for a drink. Want to join me?"
The younger woman looked at her, and then nodded once, making up her mind. "I'd like that."
The two women started towards the turbolift, and Shelby gamely attempted conversation. "You were just coming out of the holodeck, weren't you, Beverly? What kind of holoprogram involves shoes like that?"
"A dance studio program. I was tap dancing." She turned the shoes so Shelby could see the soles. "These pieces of metal sound against a wooden floor and—"
"— become a kind of percussion instrument. Data told me you taught him to tap dance, I remember now."
Crusher heard the barest hesitation after Shelby said Data's name and turned to look at her, wondering what that was about. But she said aloud, realizing there was only one reason Data would have told her, "I didn't realize that you and Data were friends."
A fleeting look crossed Shelby's face which she immediately stilled. "We were in touch quite a bit this past year," she said. "He was my best resource on how to combat the Borg."
Crusher smiled. "I guess you couldn't talk about weapons systems and Cochrane coils all the time."
Shelby shrugged. "I insisted on turning the conversation."
"There's definitely more to him than you'd think," the doctor said, reflecting on how far Data had come in his interactions with humans since she'd first met him.
Shelby didn't make a reply, and as they walked into Ten Forward Crusher decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. She ordered for the both of them, and two orange soda floats with chocolate ice cream arrived at their table. "What's this?" Shelby asked.
"A Betazoid invention," she said. "Deanna Troi loves chocolate, and she introduced me to these. They're not bad—try one."
They each took a sip of the silly drinks, and Shelby's expression relaxed. "It's…different. But I think I like it."
'Another convert. I'll tell Deanna." She ate a spoonful of ice cream. "So," she said, hoping the topic was innocuous enough, "how does it feel to be a captain now?"
"Why don't you try it yourself?" Shelby replied with a ghost of a smile, looking more like her usual self.
The doctor tilted her glass, toasting her. "Touché." But the other woman's gaze continued to hold hers, until she felt compelled to add, "Not right now, Liz."
Shelby took another sip. "Why not?"
Crusher managed to stifle a sigh. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked.
"We could." Shelby actually looked apologetic. "I don't mean to keep pushing, but I'm not a task force commander for much longer. If there's anything I can do to get you the command you would take, I want to do it."
"What makes you think there's a command I'd take?" Crusher lifted an eyebrow as she said it, meaning it as a quick (and hopefully funny) retort, but Shelby gave her an incredulous look.
"Beverly—! Almost every other doctor in Starfleet has no interest in command, some even feel that medicine and command are totally incompatible with each other, and here you make it a point to serve as a bridge officer—and you don't want a command of your own?" She sat forward, her voice becoming more intense. "If you can see beyond Sickbay to the ship as a whole, if you can see yourself not only as a doctor but truly as a Starfleet officer, then you have to see that commanding your own ship is the next step, not just for your career but for your own growth as a person. What's holding you back?"
Jean-Luc.
The unbidden thought was so immediate, so startling she almost feared she'd said it out loud. It wasn't true in any case, Jean-Luc Picard had never stood in her way, never kept her from doing what she knew she had to do. So why—?
Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Shelby's expression became more thoughtful, and she went on slowly, "Maybe it's not so much the command, but the circumstances that have to be right. That's why you left the Enterprise to serve as Chief of Starfleet Medical for a year, isn't it? Not because of the opportunity, the career advancement, but because no matter the personal cost, it was what was best for Starfleet?"
Crusher had to give the other woman a grudging smile. "You do do your homework, don't you?"
"After today, I can understand that motivation." Shelby looked down at her drink as she stirred it, and then she raised her eyes again. "I almost didn't take the command that was offered to me today."
"What?" Crusher was genuinely surprised. "But I thought—"
"— that becoming a captain is what I've always wanted? It is. But I didn't want to take it if it was…wrong." She explained what had happened in Engineering, and how Riker had disagreed with her actions. "Even though we desperately need more captains, I wouldn't give Starfleet one who wasn't ready, who wasn't the very best. That goes against my duty. That isn't what's best for Starfleet."
"And you think all the senior officers on the Enterprise—are ready. Are the best."
"Yes."
Crusher ducked her head and took a sip of her float, her cheeks suddenly burning. Shelby had certainly seen more than her share of Starfleet officers, and she thought that highly of the Enterprise—of her. She said, trying to deflect the conversation away from too many emotions, "Why don't you try out that logic on Data? It'd probably work on an android."
"I did." Something in Shelby's voice made Crusher look up again as she continued, "And I…was going to ask him to become my first officer. But I didn't."
"Why not? I think that's a wonderful idea," the doctor said, puzzled that she hadn't asked him.
"It wouldn't have worked."
"But if you and Data are already friends—"
Shelby cut her off, speaking haltingly as if she couldn't help herself. "I thought we were friends. Something's—happened, between us, and I don't know what it is. Maybe it's…an android thing. I don't know." She frowned, frustrated. "I was so wrong, Beverly, I read everything wrong, I thought...I thought there was more there than there actually was. I can't talk to him about it, he just gives me this—puzzled look, and all his actions have been so ambiguous…"
Listening hard, trying to understand, suddenly the emotion in Shelby's voice clicked into place and Crusher realized, Oh my god, Data and Liz had an affair!
How long had Shelby been aboard last year—two weeks? A week? And she and Data had—
"…I've never misjudged someone this badly." Her expression was an odd mix of bemusement and determination as she declared, as if trying to convince herself, "I have to be able to trust my instincts, it's the only diplomatic trick I have. If I can't get a read on a situation, a person, within a few seconds, the mission's lost. And I don't know if I can trust my instincts anymore."
Crusher knew what the other woman wasn't saying, wouldn't admit to herself—there was more than an echo of Shelby in her own life. "That's not what's really bothering you," she said. "That's a part of it, and an important part if the only thing you're thinking about is your career, but that isn't all."
"So what else am I thinking about?"
"Liz, it's okay to care about Data," she said gently.
Shelby was silent for a long moment, but then the warmth came back to her eyes. "It is, isn't it?"
"Yes," she agreed fervently, for herself as well as for Shelby.
She noticed that people were starting to leave Ten Forward as the shifts changed and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not at the excuse to end the conversation. "I have to take a shower before I go up on the bridge, are you—?"
"I'm fine." Shelby smiled. "Thanks, Beverly. You've given me a lot to think about."
"So have you, Liz."
…like how you and Data… she thought as she made her way to her quarters. From the way Shelby had acted, it was clearly more than a one-night stand they had shared. How had they formed a relationship, reached a level of understanding, in a matter of days?
How had she and Picard known each other all these years and all they were to each other were friends—close, warm, solid friends, but just friends—and no more?
When Crusher stepped out of the shower, she noticed that there was a subspace transmission in the queue for her. Starfleet Headquarters—with another offer of command. She began to key in a refusal, just as she had for all the others, but her hand stilled over the console this time.
Picard wasn't holding her back—she was. And for what? As long as she stayed aboard the Enterprise, nothing would change, in her career or elsewhere.
Something had to change...
Geordi LaForge scanned for Data's distinctive aura among the engineers crowding his quarters and spilling out into the corridor. "Coming through!" he called above the music and conversation, trying to make his way to the opposite corner of the room.
"...no, I'm s-serious!" Lieutenant Barclay insisted to Lieutenant Duffy, stuttering with his eagerness to make his point. "You've got it all wrong! You put your right f-foot in, then you put your right foot out—"
"How can you put your right foot 'out'?" Chief O'Brien wanted to know.
"So your right foot goes forward," Ensign Gomez said. "What is the rest of you doing? Where's your hand?" She grabbed Barclay's hand and held it out from his side. "Here?"
"H-hey!" he yelped.
She took a step forward with her right foot, forcing him to take a step back with his left. "What are your hips doing?" she asked in a low, playful voice, placing her free hand on his hip and leading.
Duffy whooped with glee. "Mambo!" he cried, grabbing Keiko, Chief O'Brien's wife, and joining in.
LaForge shook his head as he finally reached the android and handed him a drink. "Only an engineer could get from the hokey-pokey to the mambo in one easy step," he said, grinning.
Data held up his drink, proposing a toast. "To another successful party."
The chief engineer clinked glasses with Data. "I just wonder what the parties'd be like if I actually planned them!" He took a sip and surveyed the crowd. "Well, they deserve it, after all the work they put in for the inspection." He faced his friend again, remembering something he'd meant to ask him. "So did Commander—I mean, Captain Shelby have a pep talk with you, too?"
"Pep talk?"
"Trying to convince you to take another post?"
"Yes, she did. What was your response?" he asked, curious.
LaForge shrugged. "That I'd think about it and get back to her. I don't know, she makes a convincing argument but..."
"It would be hard to leave all this behind?" Data supplied helpfully, causing Geordi to smile.
"Something like that. I've been aboard this ship for five years now. You're all my friends; this is home. I'm kinda happy here."
"That is not an unalloyed sentiment," the android noted.
Geordi said, startled, "You know, you're right. I wonder why I said that." He looked thoughtful. "I've enjoyed my time aboard the Enterprise," he mused aloud. "I've been challenged, and I've been rewarded for my efforts."
"Perhaps you feel it is time to 'leave home'?"
LaForge grinned at Data. "Is that how you feel?"
"Routine appears to suit me best," he said noncommittally.
Geordi snapped his fingers. "That's it, isn't it? Routine? It all starts feeling the same?"
"What is it you wish for in the place of routine?"
He shrugged. "Different challenges, maybe? Something less familiar? A different atmosphere, different people—I don't know."
"You did begin your assignment on the Enterprise as a conn officer, in the line of command," Data reminded him. "Is command a career path you still wish to pursue?"
"Sometimes I think about it. If I was going to do it, though, I'd have to be a bridge officer for a while again, get more experience—"
"That is what I told Captain Shelby as well, that I believed I needed more experience," Data said, surprised that they felt the same about assuming command.
"So you are thinking about leaving home, too."
Data looked at his friend.
The dancing surged towards the two men and Data hastily held his drink aloft before a giggling Ensign D'Sora tripped and fell against him.
She looked up to apologize to whoever she'd bumped into, and her smile vanished as she saw it was Data. She straightened hastily and pushed her hair back from her face. "Um, sorry. Sir."
"Are you all right, Ensign?" he asked.
"Fine! Fine," she said, backing away from him. "I'm—" LaForge finished dusting Ensign Herbert off, who reclaimed D'Sora as his dancing partner and pulled her away before she could finish her sentence. She didn't seem to mind at all.
"You okay, Data?" Geordi asked.
"I am unharmed. And you?"
"Fine. My drink didn't do too well, though." He shrugged. "What's with Jenna? Is she still giving you the cold shoulder?"
"I am treating her as she has asked me to, but she remains uncomfortable in my presence," he said, watching her move away.
"That's not your fault, Data. Forget about it. Your real friends will stick by you."
"My 'real' friends?"
"You know. Like me." He elbowed Data good-naturedly. "We won't change."
I may have been promoted, but that doesn't change—things, between us. Nothing else has changed, Data.
"Jenna and I were friends before we attempted a romantic relationship," Data said aloud.
"But look at you now, you can't even talk to each other. That's not friendship."
When we started talking about more than technical information—I didn't expect us to be lovers again, but I thought we had become...friends.
"I wasn't going to say anything before, but I can't stand seeing her treat you like this, Data," Geordi went on. "A real friend would try to work it out. Even if it was hard they'd keep trying, they wouldn't give up so easily."
I was happy you were all right, that you were still alive.
You could simply have told me that.
I could have. But it...wasn't enough just to say it, Data. I wanted to hold you, to feel for myself that you were okay. And, I wanted you to know how glad I was that you were okay, too.
"Doesn't matter how far away we are, how long it's been since we've seen each other. I know, when we have our fiftieth reunion or whatever of this crew, we'll still be friends, Data."
The android nodded, a pensive expression hidden behind a sip of his drink.
Liz Shelby contemplated the chromatic blur of stars at warp speed in Ten Forward. She had come up with a short list of senior officers, but she hated to make any final decisions without input from her first officer. Whoever he or she might be.
She finished off her ice cream float and sighed, wondering if she should order another. And then saw Data walk in and, catching sight of her, walk towards her table.
She straightened unconsciously. "Good evening, Data," she said in what she hoped was a neutral voice.
"Good evening, Liz."
"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked, gesturing for him to join her.
He seated himself. "I wished to speak with you."
"About the Scylarean ships? The recommendations from my staff just came in."
"I actually wished to speak with you about us."
She pretended to take a sip of her float, avoiding his eyes. "Us?"
"Us: the objective case of the first person plural—"
She had to smile. "I knew that, Data." She looked up at him. "What about us?"
He stated without preamble, "I was not aware that, after an intimate relationship had ended, it was possible for the parties involved to be friends."
"You—" She frowned at him, not sure she'd heard him correctly. "I'm sorry?"
"My past experiences did not prepare me for your overtures of friendship when we met again," he explained, "and I have not been able to understand my reaction to your behavior towards me until now."
She clasped her hands around her glass, wary of her feelings even as she couldn't help asking, "What are you saying, Data? No one's ever wanted to be friends after you've slept together?"
"Yes. That is what I am saying."
Unbelieving, Shelby stared at him. And she paled as she did so, suddenly seeing the depths in his golden eyes that she'd convinced herself she'd never see again, that she'd only imagined seeing a year ago.
He went on, "It appears that when you embraced me in engineering, you triggered programming of which I was not formerly aware."
"What kind of programming?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Since I have a positronic brain and therefore cannot forget anything, I have no need to recreate what I have experienced once," he said. "Yet, after you embraced me, I found myself experiencing strong compulsions to recreate certain experiences. Having decided that our relationship was to be strictly professional, I knew I should not touch you at all, yet I could not help putting my hand on your arm during the debriefing today. I knew I should not look into your eyes as I had in the past, but when you came to my cabin I did so. And, despite my determination to the contrary, I...wished to restore our previous good understanding.
"Perhaps if my past sexual encounters had not terminated so definitively," he said, his voice so matter-of-fact that she suddenly ached for him, "I would have discovered this aspect of my programming sooner, and accepted your friendship from the moment you came aboard."
Sad for Data, angry at his past lovers, not wanting him to be hurt any more, she reached for his hand. And in the instant she realized how cold her hand was from her glass and would have withdrawn it, he was already holding it in his.
She smiled, staring at their hands, and then up at his face. Seeing uncertainty there, she said, concerned, "I hope I never gave you a reason to think that I wanted you to keep your distance. If I ever acted as if—nothing had happened between us, I didn't mean to."
"You did not," he said, his voice suddenly low as if he were remembering something. "I apologize if I made assumptions based on a generalization of my past experiences, Liz. I should simply have asked."
"I should've given you a great big hug when I wanted to and neither of us would have been confused." But exasperation at how easy it would have been to avoid all their misunderstandings turned into a need to make things absolutely clear, and Shelby looked at the android earnestly. "I want us to be friends."
The hint of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. "As do I."
"I'm glad." She turned their hands so they were palm-to-palm, twined her fingers through his and held tight. "So how've you been, Data?" And she grinned as she got the right answer.
"Physically, I am the same as I have always been, Liz. However, your impending inspection led to several intriguing problems, the challenges of which I welcomed and appreciated..."
Relaxed, unhurried, they caught up with each other, talked shop, exchanged ideas, traded suggestions—and Shelby realized that, satisfying as subspace transmissions from Data had been, they didn't compare to actually being in the android's presence.
He gestured to her drink. "Would you like another?"
"Sure." She signaled a waiter to bring two more ice cream floats.
"I am not familiar with this particular beverage," the android admitted when their drinks arrived.
"It's Betazoid," she said with a straight face.
Data stirred the float, then bent and took a sip. His gaze became distant as he considered the taste, then he looked back at the glass and nodded with one eyebrow on the rise and a sideways begrudging smile.
She watched him, amused. "You do that really well."
"Since I do not have any natural preferences with regard to food, I have had to cultivate the appearance of appreciating tastes. I am glad you find my performance convincing."
"Not just convincing," she said, grinning fondly at him. "Utterly charming." As he took another sip, a sudden thought occurred to her. "Data?"
"Yes?"
"Become my first officer."
He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected their friendship to extend that far, but quickly recovered his equanimity. "I do not believe this is the usual way a new commission is offered," he remarked.
Shelby could have sworn he was teasing her. "I realize that, but listen—"
He straightened and gave her his full attention. "I am listening."
She shook her head, smiling. "Captain Picard first put the idea into my head. He thought we made a good team, balanced each other—my hunches, your reason; your caution, my..." She tried to think of a positive way to put it.
Data offered, "Imprudence? Impetuosity? Impulsiveness?"
She smiled at her own expense. "And those are only words beginning with 'i.'" She made her case, every reason she'd prepared to persuade Data with when she'd gone to his quarters earlier. From his expression, he seemed to find her reasoning compelling. Most importantly, she had his friendship back, and even had he turned down her offer, that would have been enough for her just an hour before.
But she felt his hand pressed against hers now, and knew she wasn't about to leave him behind this time. She took his other hand in hers and gave him what she hoped was the most compelling reason for him to leave not only the Enterprise but every benefit a Galaxy-class ship could give him. "I care about you. I don't want to say goodbye. Please come with me, Data."
He looked at her warily. "Do you know what you are asking?"
She searched for the right words. "I know you're an android, and what that means," she said gently. "I'm not asking you for any more than you can give, than you already give me. But there's no one I'd trust more than you to guard my back, Data," she told him. "And no one I'd rather have at my side."
Wonder warred with caution in his pale features, but he nodded and assured her, "I shall consider your offer."
Captain Picard sat in his ready room and regarded his second officer for a long moment.
It wasn't as if he hadn't expected Data's announcement of a new commission and request for a transfer; Picard had practically given Shelby permission to recruit the android.
No. It was that looking at Data's typically calm, expectant... open expression, and knowing he was going to lose that in a valued officer, reminded him of another time he'd lost a valued officer—an officer who had been young, forward and determined, but had had that same eager openness about her. And as Picard stared at Data, he heard that other officer's last words to him: You have the heart of an explorer, and the soul of a poet.
What had become of his heart in the four years since then? Was he still an explorer by mere virtue of being captain of the Enterprise? Or had the Enterprise, with its unchanging crew, its stable relationships, enabled him to play it safe? Where was the challenge? Where did his heart lead him now?
The android in front of him was ready for whatever opportunities his new commission offered him, including new friendships and relationships. And here Picard was, afraid to admit to himself he was a lonely man and even more afraid to change anything, to do anything about it. Was that the soul of a poet—running scared from a chance at personal happiness? What would it take to find out if there was any poetry left in him?
Aloud, he said, "Mister Data, I'd be proud to recommend you for promotion to commander and first officer. But after your refusal to accept similar promotions, I must ask you if you are absolutely certain this is what you want."
Data nodded. "Yes, sir. A new commission and transfer to another ship are ideal opportunities to facilitate change, and—" His yellow eyes became unusually grave as he explained, "—the only real growth comes with change, Captain."
"I agree," Picard said softly. Then, in a firmer voice, "Permission granted, Commander. Congratulations, and good luck."
"Thank you, sir." They shook hands, and Data arose and left.
Picard exhaled slowly, centering himself, then glanced down at his desk to see what other business was left for the day. The padd with the offer of promotion to Fleet Captain still needed an answer.
He turned in his chair and looked out of the viewport behind his desk, thoughtful. He'd known his answer yesterday. But things didn't seem as sure today...
The door chimed. He called, "Come!" and turned as he saw, reflected in the viewport, Beverly Crusher standing in the doorway. "Doctor Crusher. Please, have a seat." He arose and gestured for her to sit on the sofa. "Tea?"
"Yes, thank you." She sank gratefully onto the sofa, tucking one leg under her. "It's started," she told him.
"What has?"
"The changing of the guard." She watched as Picard brought over, not two mugs, but a tray with a complete tea service from the replicator alcove, and she shared a smile with him as he set it on the low table. Tea steeped the old-fashioned way was an indulgence, but one they both appreciated.
Picard seated himself across from the doctor and tugged at his shirt before he crossed his legs comfortably and folded his hands in his lap. "Then you know why Data came in to see me?"
"Actually, I came to tell you that Doctor Selar is becoming Liz Shelby's chief medical officer. You mean Data's accepting a new commission, too?"
He nodded. "As Shelby's first officer."
Crusher propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and her head in her hand. "Well, then! That explains…" She grinned briefly, then went on, "Deanna just told me that she wanted to take the bridge officer's test. I was surprised at her timing, but now…I think when she passes she's going to be gunning for Data's old job of second officer."
Picard smiled in complete approval. "With Counselor Troi's background and training…her professionalism and quiet compassion, I would be pleased—" He paused, and amended, "Any captain, would be pleased to have her for a second officer."
Crusher regarded the captain with a barely-quirked eyebrow, letting him know she hadn't missed his restatement.
His expression was bland. "There's more than one way to change the guard, you know."
She held his gaze steadily. "I know." And then it was Picard's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Is the tea ready?" she asked in the same half-challenging, half-teasing tone.
"I believe it is." He briskly sat forward and poured their tea. She picked up her cup and saucer and took a sip. He raised his own cup to his lips, then paused. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?" he offered.
She looked at him over the rim of her cup, then seemed to make up her mind. "What do you know of the Mendeleev?"
He considered as he took a sip of tea. "The Mendeleev," he repeated, setting the cup back in its saucer, then setting both on the table. "I suppose you know that it's a science vessel—"
"Yes, and I know its warp capability, lab facilities, and its last dozen missions. What do you know of it, Jean-Luc?"
"Well, I've known Captain Estallela for over three years now. He's been wanting another assignment, not because of any problems with his crew, but because the Mendeleev doesn't have the deep space capabilities he needs for the kind of research that most interests him. He's always spoken highly of his crew and research teams, and places great reliance on his senior staff."
Crusher nodded. "Captain Estalella got that new assignment, and I've been offered the Mendeleev. And…I've been seriously considering accepting the commission."
Picard straightened, his expression suddenly serious. "Beverly, may I ask, as I asked Data—after all this time of being offered other commissions, why the Mendeleev?"
She set her teacup back on the table and leaned forward slightly, wanting to think aloud with him. "It's not so much this particular ship. It's the timing. After talking with Liz I just can't deny anymore how great the need is for command-level officers. It's not about Starfleet bullying me into doing something—it's about my conscience, what I believe is the right thing to do. I have to go where I'm most needed."
Picard heard her statements—and the uncertainties behind them as well. He pointed out gently, "In all the time I've known you, you've never done anything you didn't believe in. But you went where you were needed once already, when you became Chief of Starfleet Medical. And you weren't happy."
She nodded, admitting, "And I returned to the Enterprise gladly. I know." She looked down at her hands briefly before she focused back on him. "This time is different, though, Jean-Luc. Wesley isn't here; I don't have that responsibility, that—guilt."
The fleeting look in her blue eyes said what she couldn't out loud—that Wesley wasn't the only reason she had come back.
And suddenly Picard felt more sure of what he wanted to say. "Is a research vessel the best use of your talents? You're a doctor, yes, but you've also commanded Starfleet's flagship. Would you be satisfied with a ship that has limited deep space capability, that by necessity needs to stay within the confines of explored space?"
She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. "It's not my ideal command, but it's the one offered."
"There are other commissions."
Crusher looked a question at him.
He leaned over and refreshed her tea. "I was thinking, just before you walked in…" He picked up his cup again. "…that if I accepted the offer of fleet captaincy…" He settled back and took a leisurely sip. Then his gaze turned intense, part argument and part entreaty. "I'd like you to join me, Beverly, and command one of my ships."
Data, in his new command red uniform with a full third pip on his collar and a quiescent Spot cradled in his arm, walked into the transporter room—and checked just inside the doorway. "Geordi," he said, sounding as close to surprised as an android could.
LaForge grinned at him. "Yeah, I pulled rank on Chief O'Brien—I just had to be the one at the controls for you."
Data released Spot (who jumped to the floor and began to nose around the transporter platform) before he approached the transporter console. "I know it is Chief O'Brien's usual shift, but that is not the cause of my reaction to your presence here." LaForge waited expectantly for Data to say it, and the android, having noticed his friend's new uniform—the same color and rank as his—obliged. "Geordi, you have also received a promotion?"
Savoring every word, he replied, "Data, say hello to the Enterprise's new first officer!"
Looking bemused at the request, he replied, "Hello. But I believe 'congratulations' is the more appropriate response."
LaForge couldn't help a laugh. "Right as always!" Then he explained, "Captain Picard decided to take that fleet captaincy, and Commander Riker was his first choice to become the new captain of the Enterprise. Then Will turned around and offered the first officer position to me." He shrugged, delighted. "It makes sense—I know this ship better than anyone but you, and this way I can get more of that command experience I told you I wanted."
"I am pleased for you." And LaForge knew that the android meant it.
"Thanks. Oh—!" He picked up something small and furry on the console and offered it to Data. "I made this for Spot, as a sort of a going-away present, you know. It's a toy mouse that won't lose its tail or fur no matter how much she worries at it."
He accepted the mouse solemnly. "Thank you, Geordi. But I have nothing for you."
"That's okay," he grinned. "I don't have a cat." LaForge folded his hands in front of him, regarding the android. "I think we're both making a good move. But I am going to miss you, Data."
"I will miss your daily presence in my life as well."
"What I said last night about us fifty years from now is still true, you know," he reminded him. "We'll still be friends."
"I remember your statement, but I meant something else." He clarified, "Had you not befriended me when we first became shipmates, Geordi, I do not know that anyone else aboard would have done so."
"Data…" Surprised, he thought back to those early days. "But Wesley—"
"Wesley was fascinated by my being an android. It took several weeks for him to see me as you had seen me from the first—as another being worthy of friendship, of your trust. It has always meant a great deal to me. I hope I have been worthy of your regard."
"Over and over and over again," he said immediately, smiling warmly at the android. "You've believed in me, and you've never let me down, not even once. You're the best friend anyone could possibly ask for."
The android tilted his head slightly, as if in surprise, then gave a small nod. "Thank you, Geordi."
Captain Shelby walked into the transporter room, finishing up a conversation over her commbadge and checking something on a padd. "…and the deflector grids, right?"
"Correct, Captain. And Starbase Operations informs that the Jorima Falcon is ready for your inspection."
"Acknowledged." She handed the padd to Data for his review as she added, "My first officer and I are transporting now." She tapped her badge to terminate the connection and grinned at the sight of LaForge. "Geordi, I just heard the good news from Will. Congratulations!"
"Thanks, Liz. Sounds like you've got your work—and more—cut out for you."
"I'll be doing double duty as Task Force Commander and starship captain for a little while longer, but I've got a superb assistant." She smiled up at the android, who had just scanned the information and was handing the padd back to her. "Ready, Data?"
"I am ready." He bent down for Spot, who ignored him and instead leaped lightly onto the transporter platform, following Shelby onto one of the pads. The cat rubbed her head against Shelby's ankle, and purred as she picked her up.
"Silly cat," she said fondly, and Data mounted the platform and stood next to them.
LaForge looked up from setting the transporter controls and shook his head, smiling. He had first-hand knowledge that Spot didn't take to just anyone, and this had to be a good omen.
Shelby cooed at Spot, then met Geordi's gaze. "Good luck to you, Geordi," she said.
"You too, Liz," he said.
Spot leaned out of Shelby's arms towards the mouse in Data's hand and Shelby tightened her hold on the cat while Data obligingly brought the mouse up to Spot's level. The cat sniffed cautiously, then began poking it with her paw.
"Data," LaForge said, glad his little present was appreciated. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will. And I will see you at our fiftieth reunion."
LaForge broke into a wide grin. "Or sooner."
"That would be preferable," the android agreed.
Data glanced at Shelby, who smiled and nodded for him to give the command. They both turned to face LaForge and Data said, "Energize."
FIN